


how long will i love you (and how long can you love me too)

by hedahearteyes



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, Clexa, F/F, Songfic, don't ask me why i don't know why, sort of, this is sad the only happy parts are in the beginning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-15
Updated: 2015-11-15
Packaged: 2018-05-01 20:07:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5219114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hedahearteyes/pseuds/hedahearteyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lexa has always loved Clarke. But that doesn't always mean that it's easy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	how long will i love you (and how long can you love me too)

**Author's Note:**

> First of all: I have no idea where this came from except that my brain at some point went "hey, here's a thought!" and then provided me with the line that is this fic's summary.  
> Second: yes, I am also still working on my other series and I also have two multi-chapter fics in the works, so there will be more.
> 
> I wrote this to Jon Boden, Sam Sweeney and Ben Coleman's cover of The Waterboys' 'How Long Will I Love You'. Listen to it before, during or after reading to enhance your pain.

.  
_How long will I love you? / As long as there are stars above you / And longer if I can_

 

You always loved Clarke Griffin.

You still remember the day you met her in the middle of December. Her blonde hair puffing out from underneath the blue beanie she was wearing, specks of snow stuck in her curls. It was cold outside, colder than you had ever experienced in Polis. You hated it. But her cheeks and nose were pink from the cold and her eyes seemed impossibly blue. That was the first time you truly loved winter.

Yes, you still remember the day you met her. How could you not? It was the day your whole world turned upside down, it was the day your life changed and if anyone asked, in this lifetime or the next, you would tell them you wouldn’t want to change it for the world. 

 

_  
I.

You were just eighteen and excited to be in your last year of high school, excited to be done with it. You had one friend there, Anya, and you had known her all your life. There were a couple of kids that you knew since fourth grade, two of them had been with you in every class since then. You knew their names and their faces and that was enough for you.

She was seventeen, going on eighteen, and making friends like she wasn’t the new kid that moved from the other side of the country and transferred to a new school three months into the year. Of course you shared three classes and of course you couldn’t stop staring since that first day you saw her in the parking lot. 

Anya would say luck was on your side, you swore you were cursed, when she was assigned your partner for a history project. She looked at you from across the room when your names were called together, smiling kindly and not at all surprised that your eyes were already on her. After class she came up to you and politely introduced herself, despite the fact that you already knew her name and she knew yours. 

“Hey, I’m Clarke.” You momentarily stared at the hand she held out before shaking it. You weren’t surprised at the spark running through your fingers. 

“Clarke.” You echoed, her name slipping from your lips for the first time and finding a home in your mouth. She just smiled, didn’t comment on your own lack of introduction. 

You had never believed in it, never thought it possible, but the stories were all true. You were mesmerized when you first saw her and you fell in love when you first touched her. 

Clarke introduced you to her friends, people you had already known for years but never really _knew_. You worked on your project after school and she took you to parties in the weekend. You watched her dance, saw her laugh with abandon; she caught you staring sometimes and just smiled like she always did. 

You learned her second name and her birth date, listened to her stories from her youth full of childish joy and innocence; you felt your heart break when her tone changed one day and she told you about her father. She didn’t cry, simply told her story and at the end of it smiled up at you, _like she always did_. 

Even after the project, she made sure you stuck around, still taking you to parties on the weekend. You started hanging out with her little group of misfits and by the end of the year you suddenly had a place you were welcomed. You would even dare say it was a place you belonged. 

Clarke became your best friend; you barely left each other’s sides. 

She would ask you to braid her hair like you did yours and you gladly did. She would sit between your legs, her back to you and you would run your hands through her locks and she would close her eyes and moan. The sound always made your knees go weak.

There were nights when you felt an enormous guilt wash over you as you watched Clarke sleep beside you in your bed. You could never stop the flutter of your chest whenever she smiled at you or touched you, could never help the shiver running down your spine whenever she leaned in close to whisper in your ear.

There were nights when she curled up against you, and drunk and half asleep she would whisper _I love you_ ’s against your skin. You didn’t dare believe them.

From the moment you met her, you were in love with Clarke Griffin and everyday you spent with her was another reminder that she would never be yours. But you’d be damned if you ever let her go. You would be a martyr for her.

 

_  
II.

Going to the same college wasn’t something you had planned; it was merely coincidence that the programs you both chose happened to be the best at the same university. But you would be lying if you said you weren’t relieved. 

You didn’t become roommates, Clarke had been truly disgruntled about that for over a month, and you silently thanked every God in existence. You weren’t sure if you could handle the intimacy that came with basically living together, weren’t sure if you could watch her step out of the shower wearing just a towel, weren’t sure if you could be around as she changed in and out of her clothes every day. Most of all, you weren’t sure if you could watch her bring boyfriends to your room. 

Because college brought upon a certain lifestyle. Octavia and Raven had gone to the same university as well and you were truly glad for it, but they had always been keen on parties. Same as Clarke. And college parties were far different, far wilder than high school parties. The alcohol flowed freely and unlimited, the music was louder and the bodies on the dance floor were closer. 

Clarke became bold too. In high school she never dragged you to the dance floor, always let you stay off to the side, silently observing. But she told you that that time was over and that in college, you had to mingle. 

“There’s plenty of singles around here, ready to mingle even just for an evening.” You had rolled your eyes at her. Clarke had sighed, she probably thought that your unwillingness to “mingle” came from prudishness; truth was you never wanted anyone but Clarke. 

“You can’t stick to the sidelines forever, Lex.” She had said, as she dragged you to the middle of the room. You had been just fine at the sideline, watching Clarke, but there was alcohol running through your veins and even more through hers and you would let her drag you anywhere. So you danced. 

But that night Clarke had apparently decided that she enjoyed dancing with you and suddenly you found yourself on the dance floor nearly every weekend, bodies a little too close, lines a little too blurred. You fought from being jealous whenever she danced with someone else, especially that boy with the wild brown hair and easy grin that she seemed to gravitate to; you revelled in the fact that she returned to you at the end of the evening every time. It seemed the last dance was always yours. 

Anya kept telling you to make a move and there were days when Octavia and Raven’s common sexual comments seemed to imply they were about you and Clarke, but you never did. Clarke didn’t like you like that, she would have told you if she did; she told you everything. And you weren’t willing to ruin your friendship. It didn’t matter; Clarke never had to know about your feelings. 

You would stick to the sidelines for her.

 

_  
III.

You got a new roommate in your second year of college. Up until the day of move in, you didn’t know who it was since you had never received the letter with the information and you didn’t care enough to ask the faculty. You still remember how surprised and excited and anxious you were when you stepped into your room at the end of the day and found Clarke sitting on your bed. That wasn’t surprising, that was common, but her posters on the walls on her and your side of the room and her clothes in a pile on the left bed, _her bed_ , were. The smile she gave you was blinding, the hug she wrapped you in was exhilarating. “I pulled some strings.” 

You got a new roommate in your second year of college and she was none other than Clarke Griffin. Other than that, not a lot changed. There were still parties nearly every weekend, the brown haired boy was still at them and you still loved Clarke. Only now, she would kiss him sometimes, let his hands tangle in her hair that she spent half an hour curling to perfection. On three occasions she didn’t come home with you, instead she left with him. Those nights you would think of her hands touching your body before you’d fall into a restless, dreamless sleep.

After the third time you decided that it was time to stop standing still and start moving forward. So another thing changed, because now you would find your own lips occasionally locked with any willing girl. There were many. You kissed them, held them and went through the motions; you never felt a thing. 

You got embarrassingly drunk one night. So drunk you could barely kiss the girl you had allowed dragging you to the backyard. She didn’t seem to mind, just nuzzled closer into your side, her head resting on your chest as you stared at the stars. They reminded you of the freckles on Clarke’s back.

“Is it wrong to love someone who isn’t yours to love?” The girl was silent for a long time and then she sighed as she moved and looked down on you.

“No. But it is wrong to stop living because of that.” You clearly understood the double meaning in her words and for a while you stared at her as she stared at you. She was pretty and she was kind and an excellent kisser and her smile always reached her eyes. In another life you think you could have loved her, but she wasn’t Clarke. 

Despite that you let her kiss you again, you let her pull you up and you let her lead you back all the way to her room and into her bed. You touched her all over, kissed every inch of her skin; you cherished her like you wanted to cherish Clarke. And afterwards, you even let her touch you. 

(If you called Clarke’s name at the height of your pleasure, she didn’t mention it. If you cried after while she lay wrapped in your arms, she pretended not to notice.)

When you left, you told her you were sorry. Sorry that you had said Clarke’s name, sorry that you would never call, sorry that you could have loved her if you were different people, in a different life.

That was the only night you didn’t come home and Clarke never asked where you went. But things changed again after that, because suddenly you didn’t see that boy anymore and Clarke drank a little more and danced a little closer. She would crawl into your bed at night and pull your arms around her. Sometimes when you went to look at her, you found her already looking at you. It made your heart soar and sink at the same time. 

And then one weekend everything changed. It was a weekend like any other and she, and Octavia and Raven, had dragged you to another party and she danced with you and laughed with you and you held her as close as you could. 

At some point you had found yourself outside, on your back in the grass, once again staring up at the stars. She called to you from the porch, her voice soft and almost unreal, the way she said your name made you shiver.

“Lexa?” It was like a sigh, like seeing you there was almost too much. 

“Yeah?” You didn’t even move to look at her, didn’t even flinch when her face appeared in front of you and she smiled down at you. She moved wordlessly, laid her body down besides yours, pulled your right arm around her so you could rub small circles over her back as she placed her head on your chest. 

For a moment everything was right with the world. It could all fall down around you, crumble to pieces and leave only carnage in its wake, but with Clarke in your arms, everything felt right. She gripped your shirt, like you were tethering her to life, and her sigh sounded sad to your ears. It broke your heart.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, but she didn’t answer, simply sighed once more before pulling away and standing up, her hand reached out to help you up as she smiled like she always did. Empires could rise and fall, civilizations could come and go, but Clarke Griffin would always smile at you like that. It was the only certainty you had. 

You let her pull you up, remained staring at her a moment longer, silently pleading her to talk to you, but then she broke eye contact and turned around to walk away. You reached for her wrist to stop her and turn her back to you and then everything happened so fast.

She spun around and fell into your arms, hers wrapped around your neck as her hands on the back of your head guided you closer and closer until you could feel her breath on your lips. You closed your eyes, your hands on her lower back gripped her shirt like she had yours just a minute ago. For a moment nothing happened and you opened your mouth to speak, but then she moved and pressed her lips to yours and the air got knocked from your lungs. Your heart rate picked up, you could feel it thumping against your chest and everything stopped around you. 

She was kissing you and you were too dazed to kiss her back until she started to move away and you felt like you were born again when you pulled her closer to you and started kissing her back.

If it was wrong to love Clarke Griffin, then you didn’t want to be right. If loving her meant not living, then you didn’t want to live. You would be wrong for her; you would simply survive for her.

 

_  
IV.

Being with Clarke was like nothing you had ever known. You were used to waking up to her hair in your mouth, but you didn’t think you could ever get used to her mouth on your mouth, kissing you first thing in the morning. 

You had gotten used to seeing her getting dressed, but you didn’t think you would ever get used to her teasing you as she did so. 

You had gotten used to watching her undress, but you knew for sure you would never get used to being the one undressing her. 

How you never noticed that Clarke did actually like you like that was beyond you, but she did and life with Clarke was decidedly the happiest you had ever been. If loving Clarke was surviving, then being loved by Clarke was living. You came alive beneath her touch and her gaze and her words.

But life quickly became hard. You learned that the boy with the brown hair and easy grin was named Finn and he had gone a bit off the deep end after Clarke rejected him (for you). He lost himself, only finding relief at the bottom of a bottle and in the summer between your second and third year of college he crashed his car into a tree. The car was wrecked and he died on impact; ironically, the bottle of whiskey in his hand was the only thing that came from the wreckage undamaged.

His death hit Clarke hard, and in a way she blamed herself. But you guided her through it, held her as she cried at night and she loved you more for it. 

But then, two months into your third year of college, your uncle Gustus, the man who raised you in the absence of your parents, died as well. He was stabbed to death in a fight while he was protecting his friend. Now it was Clarke who held you at night, but you cried together. 

She wanted to be a doctor, _a healer_ , and too many people were dying around her. And while you picked life back up, like you had been taught, it changed her for a while.

You hardly attended any parties in the whole third year of college; Clarke preferred to stay in bed on the weekends, holding onto you like she was afraid you would slip away if she blinked. You didn’t care much, because being with Clarke was all you’d ever want and need. 

Slowly and gradually, she found herself again, started going out again, her laugh would fill the room again and eventually when you would find her gaze in a crowd and she’d find yours, she would smile at you again, like she always did. She would always come back to you and you would always wait for her.

 

_  
V.

You were twenty-two when Clarke decided that you wouldn’t be sleeping in dorms during your fourth and final year in college. She wanted a small apartment with you and you wanted a life with her, so the choice was easily made. And domestic life with Clarke was more than you could have dreamed of. 

The last year of college flew by for the both of you and you started working for the company you had interned with and Clarke continued her studies to become a doctor. You quickly had a routine for everything.

A way around the kitchen during the preparation of dinner; a division of tasks in the housekeeping. There was even an unspoken schedule for your cuddle-sessions. 

Life with Clarke was nothing short of perfect. But then life had to change again. 

On their way home from Octavia’s birthday party – which Lexa couldn’t attend due to work – Raven and Clarke got hit by a drunk driver. 

Raven’s leg got trapped between the steering wheel and when the paramedics came, they had to cut her from the car. 

Clarke had bashed her head against the side window, immediately knocking her unconscious and causing her to lose a lot of blood from the wound. 

You rushed to the hospital, breaking every speed limit and promise you ever made. Seeing Clarke asleep in a bed, surrounded by wires and machines made your stomach bottom out, you felt sick. But Clarke had always relied on you when things got hard and you needed to be strong for her, so you didn’t cry once during the two weeks that she was unconscious. 

When the doctors started discussing the very real possibility of her not waking up, you didn’t listen, didn’t accept any of their words. You wouldn’t give up on her. She would always come back to you and you would always wait for her.

And you were right not to, because four days later she woke up. Her eyes weren’t as blue as you remembered them, but they were there, looking at you and that was enough. But then she looked around the room, realized where she was and started to panic and you held her, soothing her with whispered words that got lost in the tangles of her blonde hair. She calmed down soon enough and you told her what happened and while she was shocked and scared, she wasn’t panicking anymore and that was a good sign. Things were going to be fine.

Things were fine for three days. Until you came into her room one afternoon with lunch and kissed her forehead like you had done for the past three years. She accepted her lunch with a smile and after a while turned to look at you, her gaze unsure.

“When did you start doing that?”

“What?” 

“Kissing my forehead.” 

You stared at her, now unsure yourself, because you didn’t really understand the question. 

“What do you mean?”

“I just... I don’t remember you ever doing that.”

“Clarke, I’ve been doing that for three years.” 

You watched as her eyes went wide and then filled with tears and her hand was shaking as she brought to her mouth, lips quivering. 

“I don’t remember you doing that.” She whispered before her tears fell, much like the ground fell away beneath you. Still you got up, wrapped your arms around her shaking body and held her like you had for the past three years. It seemed Clarke didn’t always come back to you, but you would always, _always_ wait for her.

 

.  
_How long will I want you? / As long as you want me to / And longer by far_  
_How long will I hold you? / As long as your father told you / As long as you are_

 

_  
VI.

The first time the doctors told you that memory-loss was a possible side-effect, you didn’t listen, didn’t accept any of their words. When they told you the second time you nodded as you bit your cheek to keep the tears from falling. 

Clarke didn’t remember anything of the past three years and approximately six months. She didn’t remember graduating, she didn’t remember Finn’s or Gustus’ deaths, she didn’t remember your first kiss. 

She cried as you told her the stories and then whispered apologies against your skin for hours afterwards.

Taking her home felt wrong, but the doctors insisted that she needed to be in a familiar environment and your home for the past year and a half would be the best place to start. So you drove her there, carried her bags up and showed her around your apartment like she was a guest staying for the week. 

She stared at the pictures of your life together, traced them gently with her fingertips and then turned to you with a lost look in your eyes. Your heart broke over and over again. 

“I don’t remember.” 

“I know. It’s okay.” You reached out for her and she took your hand and you held her in the middle of your living room, not sure if life would ever be the same again. She might very well never remember, but you vowed to make new memories as long as she wanted to. 

The first few weeks were hard and awkward. You were used to sleeping naked beside her, your body wrapped around hers. But this wasn’t that Clarke anymore and so you lied stiff and unmoving, always on your side of the bed. 

Finding your rhythm hadn’t been too hard in many things; living together came naturally to you and so the routine returned pretty quickly. But at night you kept your distance, because you didn’t know what she wanted and you weren’t willing to make her uncomfortable simply for your own comfort.  
You would be a martyr for her.

But then one night she turned on her side to stare at you and sighed as you wouldn’t look back.

“I do love you, you know.”

“I know.” 

“You love me, right?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t remember how we loved, but I love you. I always have.” 

This made you look at her, the tears you were fighting so hard falling from the movement and she smiled at you like she always did. 

“It may take some time, I have to learn all about us again, but we’ll get there. Because I do love you. We can do this, right?” 

“We can do this.”

“So will you finally hold me again then?”

So you held her, like you had held her for three years. And another three weeks later you kissed her bare skin like you had and she moaned your name like she had and everything fell into place again. You would be fine again. She would always come back to you and you would always wait for her.

 

_  
VII.

Five months and eleven days after the accident, after your world came crashing down, she woke up one Sunday morning before you did. You woke up because she was shaking your body and you looked into her wide, panicked eyes, instantly awake and alert. She stared at you, then lowered her voice to a whisper and asked you where you were and what happened the night before. Initially you were confused, but then she asked you whose room you were in and you can still remember the way dread took over your entire body. 

You sat her down on the edge of the bed after she had climbed out to investigate and gently asked her what year she thought it was. 

Calling the doctor that day was one of the hardest things you ever had to do, driving her down to the hospital and waiting for their diagnosis was the scariest. 

She had forgotten again and days later an MRI showed that her brain-damage was so severe she would constantly forget after prolonged periods of time. You would keep losing and finding Clarke for the rest of your lives.

Sometimes were hard for her, she took Finn’s death pretty hard and realizing that years had passed since made her even sadder. Sometimes she could hardly look at you, because she chose you and that had resulted into Finn dying, but she didn’t remember choosing you, she didn’t remember why she chose you. 

Sometimes it came easily to her. The stories you told of your life together seemed to fill her with joy, the only sadness being that she couldn’t remember living them. She would kiss you like she couldn’t stand not kissing you. Sometimes it was like only her brain had forgotten you, but her body never had and she made love to you like it was all she knew. 

Sometimes she was filled with sorrow and regret, apologizing to you every chance she got. 

Sometimes it lasted six months of you building a life again, making memories and hanging new pictures on the wall. 

Sometimes it lasted two months and you would lose her again after just barely getting her back. 

Sometimes it lasted too short for her to even get used to you again. 

You always remembered every first kiss, every first date, every first touch, every first new picture and every joke. No memory was ever lost to you, even though they were always lost to her.

Sometimes, some very rare times, you were blessed and she would wake up and smile at you like she always did and touch you exactly the way you liked it and she would remember. She would remember your very, very first kiss, your very, very first date, your very, very first touch and every joke. 

And then, too soon, she would be gone again. 

 

.  
_How long will I be with you? / As long as the sea is bound to / Wash upon the sand_

 

_  
VIII.

People started telling you that you should leave; that you should chose you instead of her for a change. She believed you to be best friends and that would be easiest to tell her. Why keep trying over and over again if you would just lose her every time. 

Why go through the pain of her pushing you away sometimes when the truth and the past she doesn’t remember got too much for her. 

Why not find someone who can actually love you.

Head over heart.

But you promised once you would be a martyr for her, and you would stick to the sidelines for her, you would be wrong for her and survive for her. You would always, _always_ wait for her. 

 

_  
IX.

There are three boxes hidden in your closet. It contains every single picture you ever took with Clarke over the past fifty-two years. It contains every memory you ever made and every memory she forgot. It contains your life, but not hers. 

Her life starts again every few months and every time she wakes up and you see that lost, scared look in her eyes, you tell her the story of what happened. You got good at that, you have told it so many times after all. 

(You’re both so much older now though, and she doesn’t even remember much from before the accident.) 

And then as she goes to the bathroom to wipe her tears, you go around the house and remove every picture of the past months and put them in your box. They’re all in envelopes, all dated. You go back to certain memories sometimes, when you’re feeling particularly nostalgic. You never linger long. 

Those pictures are the proof of your life with Clarke; those pictures are the proof of the forever you once promised each other. And even if she doesn’t remember, you do and the world will.

 

_  
X.

You always loved Clarke Griffin. And sometimes she loved you back.

 

.  
_How long will I give to you? / As long as I live through you / However long you say_  
_How long will I love you? / As long as stars are above you / And longer if I may ___


End file.
